


Dear Blondie

by Azuremosquito



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anger, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:30:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4370243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azuremosquito/pseuds/Azuremosquito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders gets a letter from an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Blondie

It had taken the messenger months to track him down. Even with all the resources at the Inquisition’s disposal, he was difficult to find.

Anders supposed he should take some solace in that fact. Even with all the Circles rebelling, he was still a wanted man, after all.

He found it difficult to focus on that bright spot, however, as he turned the envelope over and over in his hands. He couldn’t bring himself to open it. The rider had claimed not to know what it contained but she couldn’t meet Anders’ eyes when she said it.

It was addressed to “Blondie” in a neat, flowing script that had no business being the handwriting of a dwarf. And it was thin, so very thin.

 

He tried to tell himself if it was thin, it must be good news. Hawke was on his way home. Look for him in the nearest tavern getting into a fight for telling ill-advised jokes about someone’s mother.

Anders tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. Garrett would have been home before the messenger arrived if that were true. They had ways of finding each other.

Shaking fingers tore open the envelope and pulled out the small slip of folded parchment inside. It was creased and worn, as if thick, ink-stained fingers had smoothed it out and refolded it time and again, hoping that by straightening it out they might find a better way to say what must be said.

Anders struggled to breathe. Andraste’s ass, he’d never wanted this. All he’d ever wanted was a chance to live his own life like any other man. A chance to make his own choices. The blight-damned chantry had made sure no mage could ever have that, though.

His fingers had crumpled the parchment in rage and he took a deep breath, then smoothed it out again. He was stalling. He didn’t really want to see the letter’s contents. He didn’t want proof that his greatest fear had been realized.

There was no sense delaying what he already knew in his heart, try though he did to deny it. With more courage than it took to stand up to Meredith, he turned the letter over and read. 

_Dear Blondie,_

_I’ve got bad news. Shit, you’d think a writer would know a better way to say this. You remember that weird ass darkspawn magister Corypheus the wardens had locked away? Of course you do. Who could forget something like that… Anyway… He was doing weird shit, messing with the warden mages’ heads. Good thing you weren’t here. Ah… What I’m trying to say is… Hawke tried to stop him. He didn’t want the bastard to be able to hurt you again. Something happened and Hawke and the Inquisitor ended up in the Fade. Shit… I don’t know how else to say this. Hawke got trapped there. He’s not coming home, Blondie. I’m so sorry._

It wasn’t signed but it didn’t need to be. There was a smudge in the top right corner where some liquid had dripped. The paper smelled faintly of smoke.

Anders noticed all these tiny, inconsequential details because it was safer than letting his mind dwell on the actual contents. Varric had changed the way he crossed his t’s. The bottom edge was cut uneven.

The room spun around the mage and he struggled to draw breath. A calm, disconnected part of his mind went over the steps of treating a patient who was hyperventilating. Have them sit. Instruct them to focus on deep, slow breaths.

An anguished scream ripped from his throat. Dropping to his knees, he clutched the sides of his head, rocking back and forth. No, no no. No no no no! This wasn’t happening. Please, Maker, no. Everything he’d done, the sins were on  _his_  head. Garrett shouldn’t pay the price.

Shuddering sobs rattled his frame. Raging heat boiled inside. He clung to the tattered remnants of himself, fighting it back.

And then he let go.

Justice surged forth and the sobs fell silent. The body of the skinny mage straightened and rose from the ground with purpose. The crumpled letter discarded behind him, Vengeance strode out of the door and toward the Frostbacks visible in the distance.

Someone would answer for this.


End file.
